Some :) Ghost Stories

From: Tasha (cnguyton@gmail.com)
Story type: Ghost
Location: Valdosta, GA, Mountain Home, ID, Atlanta, GA, and Sunrise, FL
Source: Form Submission
Date submitted: Wed May 30 20:51:27 2007

I’ve had issues with “ghosts” and “apparitions” since I was seven. Here are a few of my experiences. Everything I say is true. If you do not believe me, feel free to email me at anytime. I have these listed in chronological order, but they are only a handful of events.

Story 1: Valdosta GA: I still don’t know what it was…

It’s simple. I wake up in the middle of the night and someone was at the foot of my bed wearing a black robe. I’m seven so I panic… I close my eyes and huddle under the covers, then reopen them and it is gone. The next night, it’s back. This time closing my eyes does not work. I get up and try to get around it and out the door. My bed is in the center of the room and the door is by the foot to the left. On the other side is a single window. I have to walk past it to get outside the door. It does not turn to look at me, just lets me walk right past it.

Night three, here we go again, but it has a new trick. When I wake up out of my sleep it is not at the foot, but in my bed touching me just under the nape of my neck. It says something quite personal and I freak (remember, I’m 7). I jolt and turn around to see my stalker and there it is. Black robe off. This one is one of the harder of the stories for me to express in full detail. I apologize for the gaps. But then there was night four. I woke up and looked over the edge of my bed and someone was there. No black robes (thank God!). He was smiling and just hanging out by my bed while I slept.

Until I turned 12, he stays there. From every nightmare from that point on, I would wake up and see him. While playing with my brothers, especially when trying to teach them something beneficial, he would be there. Not all the time, but enough to keep me feeling safe. Maybe he was an angel or a figment of my imagination, but whatever he was he made things a lot easier…

And then I turned 12 L and he left.

Story 2: Valdosta, GA: The Fog

At some point in time I got an alarm clock, so I began to time what time my bad dreams started or what time I would wake up and not feel alone. It’s always the same… 3 am. So, as a kid, I would wake up at 2:30 and stay awake until 4. This worked sometimes, but usually I would blank out. Those were the worst. I’ve woken up with a beam of light to my right and a blazing fire to my left, with something perched like a bird but stereotypically red with horns on my TV stand (I will never forget. I yelled into the night, “Jesus help me” and the response was “Jesus can not help you now”. Eeek!), to hearing someone laughing, to feeling someone stomping around my house in these huge leaps that made what seemed like my house shake, to the fog.

The most persistent issue of all of them was the fog at the foot of my bed. Slowing growing into the form of a man. At first it would “shoot” away if I saw it - red in the front and a glowing white trail. Sometimes it would be just an orb. Well, I guess it got a little more comfortable and started to actually harass me. Then it spoke. Only when I am half asleep though so I don’t know if it was me just making it up or something seriously going on. A deep exotic booming voice. Wow! I was being harassed by a deep exotic booming fog voice.

I always knew when the exotic fog was going to make an appearance because he would shake my leg or my bed. Sometimes I would feel pressure around my throat or see an indent in the mattress or in one of my pillows. I’ve even been dragged. Once I woke up in my chair upside down (what the hell). But this was life. The most serious moment during this time from 12 to when I left Georgia must be when I woke up coughing. It felt like I was hacking up dried bones. I could taste it in my cotton bone-dry mouth and feel it climbing its jagged way up my throat. It lasted for what seemed like forever and I knew exactly what I was hacking up. That was very scary.

There were other things that happened that are not as cute and bubbly. These experiences I try to not even share with myself and I had to search the deepest corners of my soul to attempt to understand… and I still don’t. At 14 we moved from the small town in GA to a smaller town in Idaho.

Story 3: Mtn Home, ID: The Smiling Fool

For this experience I am 16. 3 months from graduating high school. I’m a normal teen girl. Plenty of friends, a cheerleader, band, speech competitions, college bound, flag core, the list goes on. As far as the paranormal, I’ve had so many other experiences that now I tend to get frustrated when all I want to do is sleep. I had met this guy named John and was going to sneak out so I could go on my FIRST date. The previous two weeks, I knew that there was something new hanging around but I just tried to ignore it. Once I saw his face, but it was only for a split second. I don’t remember if he was smiling, but I had this crazy urge to. Every time I looked in the mirror. Not a normal smile, but the kind with the corners of my lips stretched to each ear, nostrils flared, and my eyes wide opened. If I noticed myself doing it I would stop, breathe, chastise myself for doing something so silly, and then proceed like nothing happened.

Days later, this is still continuing, and I go on my date with John. The dates over, I sneak into the house, and go to sleep. John and I continue dating and about a month or so later he calls me. He tells me that on our first date after I got out his truck he still did not feel alone (gulp). Then he told me that one night he got really drunk and fell asleep. He said that when he woke up there was blood everywhere. Covering his hands, his arms… then he looked in the mirror and it was all over his face. He also said that when he looked in the mirror the main problem that outweighed all the blood was the face. It was a man, laughing historically. He said like a maniac. I tried to explain it to him, which made him feel relieved that he was not going crazy, but the military did not feel the same way. John was a GI in the air force base at mountain home. He was honorably discharged and sent home, which happened to be my hometown too of Valdosta GA. I went to college there and he stayed for a few more years in that town with me. He said that the issues stopped the day we broke up.

Story 4: Valdosta, GA: Blaring Country Music

This one is short. I told my grandmother that there was something wrong with the house. Normally I would not mention it and push it off as just me being stressed, but then one day a glass tipped over and picked itself back up. I was out of that house so fast. Then one day I came home and bedroom door that happened in was locked from the inside. Since I was raised in a house with unlocked doors (in case a child got hurt), was the last one to leave, and the first to come home… I knew something was up.

Oh yeah, and the trash can lid. Same time, every other night, the trash can lid would suddenly not fit on the trash can and get knocked onto the floor. And then the symphony of banging cabinet doors. Footsteps and doors opening and closing in the middle of the living room, those were easy to ignore as maybe the next house. Then my cousin kept hearing them too and noticed that the sound was from the middle of the living room. But still, all of this I tried to write off as natural occurrences. Nothing crazy.

THEN, one day my grandmother and I started arguing, which NEVER happens. It was about the proper way to cook chicken or something equally as minimal, when out of nowhere came this loud horrific country old timey hee-honky hillbilly country gospel music. Oh, it was bad. She and I searched the house for the music. It actually lasted for a good while. Enough time for us to check all the bedrooms and walk around the house, until we both ended up back in the kitchen and staring at the ceiling. At a vent in the ceiling of the kitchen to the attic. Then it stopped. We looked at each other and debated who would go to see if the cassette player was taped in. I lost. I assure you, it was unplugged and very much uncharged. Anyway, we don’t own any loud horrific country old timey hee-honky hillbilly country gospel music nor is the player’s radio tuned to such a station.

Story 5: Atlanta, GA : Crazy Crazy Boyfriend

I use to date this guy with these mood swings that were unreal. I told him some of my past stories and at first he did not believe me. The next day he did. I don’t know what he dreamed about, but he did say that he could not breathe. Several months go by and his mood issues become more apparent. One night in particular I roll over to hold him, but when I turn around I do not just see him. It was like there was something inside of him. He threatened me to love my boyfriend. As if it was this impossible challenge. I told Albion, but he did not believe me. Of course. From there on, things kept getting worse. The slamming cabinet doors bathroom next to his bedroom at, whatcha know, 3 in the morning stopped fazing me so it turned into knocking on the walls. When the knocking on the walls did not work it turned into tapping on the TV. When tapping on the TV did not work it turned into these actual one-sided conversations. So I moved.

Story 6: Florida : History

When I moved to Florida, at first I saw dark figures, felt uncomfortable, and would wake up countless times to the sound of banging cabinet doors all the time. Someone told me that it’s just the dark history of Florida. There is a lot of spiritual things going on constantly. For the most part, it seems to be over. Maybe I am losing my mojo. YAY!

Maybe I’m crazy. Whatever. Or it is just stress or something, but it all happened and more.